


step out of the sun (if you keep getting burned)

by hopeless_hope



Series: you will be found [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Anxiety, Dad!Tony, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Financial Issues, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, Worried Tony Stark, aye look who's venting again, who's even surprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: Peter takes in the sight of his mask. And he thinks of Spider-Man. Spider-Man saves people. He can keep saving people. He’s worth something, even if Peter Parker isn’t. Spider-Man can make sure that other people don’t end up like Ben Parker, that other people don’t have to experience the pain he did.So even if Peter Parker isn’t worth saving, Spider-Man is. It’s with that logic that Peter steels himself with a newfound determination, gathering his strength.“Come on, Spider-Man.”orFive times Peter felt alone and one time Tony made sure he wasn't.





	step out of the sun (if you keep getting burned)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Waving Through A Window" from the musical Dear Evan Hansen.

Peter doesn’t remember much about the bite that started it all, other than a haze of pain. He vaguely remembers being on a fieldtrip, remembers being seeing a big ass spider and feeling sick to his stomach because spiders are  _nasty,_ but after that? Pain.

At first, he thinks it’s just normal, like an irritating itch after getting bitten by an ant. It hurts, his skin is red and irritated, but when he gets home, he kisses May on the cheek and greets Ben enthusiastically, and then runs upstairs to put some cream and a band aid over the agitated bite.

When he wakes up the next day, his thoughts are feverish, skin feeling like it’s got a thousand needles pricking into his body with oversensitivity. He throws the covers off and whimpers pathetically, not even bothering to check the clock, though he knows his alarm will go off any minute for school.

When it does, he nearly screeches at the volume, hand flailing out to shut the cursed noise off. He’s entirely sure what happens after that – maybe he falls asleep or maybe he passes out from the pain – but when he wakes up, it’s to May’s insistent voice.

“Peter! What are you still doing in bed? You’re going to be late!” she says frantically, turning on his light and opening his curtains.

When the light hits his eyes, he moans pitifully, turning his head back into his pillow. This reluctant behavior is very uncharacteristic of Peter, so May stops and gives him a critical look, taking in his sweaty face and pale features. Her face softens.

“Oh, Peter. Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” she asks gently.

Peter looks up at her through cracked eyelids. He briefly considers lying – Peter  _hates_ missing school – but he can’t remember the last time he felt this bad, and he’s not even sure he could make it out the front door, much less through a day of school. So he just settles on shaking his head.

“What hurts?” May asks, coming over to brush his sweaty hair out of his face tenderly, and he flinches at the way the touch absolutely burns.

“Dunno,” Peter mumbles. “Everything. Head. Tired.”

May pats him gently. “That’s okay, sweetie. We’ll get some medicine into you and then I’ll let you go back to sleep. Just let me go call off work and let Ben know.”

Peter wants to protest. He heard Ben and May talking last month about how making rent will be a close call, but he reasons that the one day shouldn’t put them too far back. Plus, he has some money he’d been saving for a new LEGO set that he can slip into May’s purse.

He hears May leave the room, and he’s asleep by the time he gets back.

He wakes several times throughout the day, consciousness usually coming with a piercing headache and itchy skin, but he’s so out of it that he barely registers it, content to let himself drift off again.

The next time he wakes up for good, he’s got tears on his face and it’s pitch black outside. At first, he’s not sure why he’s crying, and then it finally hits him:

The noises.

He hears  _everything,_ it feels like. It’s like switching through a radio, channels bleeding into other channels, everything much too loud and so clear that it physically hurts. He whimpers, pressing his hands to his ears tightly.

Peter turns his head and sees the chair May was sitting has been vacated; it’s late, so she must be back in her room with Ben.

He pushes himself up on his elbows weakly, nearly crying out at the feeling of fabric brushing his skin. He pants tiredly, swiping at blindly at a spot where all the pain seems the most concentrated.

His hands meet the band aid and he tears it off violently, gasping at the red, swollen bite. He hadn’t thought it was that bad. But now that he thinks about it… Those spiders were being experimented on. It was radioactive.  _Of course_ it would affect him.

Peter feels a spike of fear shoot through him. What would happen to him? Should he go get Ben and May? No, he decides almost instantly. They’d only freak out and take him to the hospital, and he knows they’d never recover from the financial toll  _those_ bills would take on them.

So, Peter just lays there, skin too hot and sensitive, every noise painfully loud, and feeling lost at sea in wave after wave of overactive senses.

And there’s nothing else to do but wait.

* * *

When Ben dies, Peter screams.

The sound tears itself past his lips, an inhuman cry of anguish. He hears – oh god, he  _hears_ – the sound of his uncle’s heartbeat stop, and he’d do just about anything to forget the sound of that particular absence.

There’s someone there, tugging gently on his shoulders, trying to usher him away, but he snarls and flings their hands off with too much strength. The person flies back, and Peter doesn’t care. He’s ready to make the world  _burn_ for what it dared to take away from him.

When Ben dies, Peter’s left with blood on his hands.

He sees the slick substance on his hands and immediately feels sick to his stomach. He scratches at them frantically, because he needs to get it off, get it off, get it  _off._

It’s fitting, he’ll think later, that his hands are stained with his uncle’s blood, because he knows that even when it’s all washed off, it’ll still be there. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault, and oh my god,  _May._

How will he ever face her? How will he ever be able to look her in the eye after telling her that her husband is  _dead_ and it’s all because of him, and he’s just going to end up hurting her too.

When Ben dies, Peter runs.

He runs past the police officers, pushes through the people who have gathered around to gawk at his tragedy with a morbid fascination, and runs and runs and runs with his newly enhanced speed, legs never tiring.

Eventually, he finds a tree, climbing to the very top and curling in on himself, shaking with grief and anger and self-loathing. From this far away, he can’t hear the sirens, can’t see the flashing lights, and if it wasn’t for the blood on his hands, he could pretend it was all just a nightmare.

He looks down, allowing himself to tip forward, and feels the wind lash at his cheeks. He hangs onto the branch above him loosely, wondering if a fall from this height would kill him.

For a normal person, the fall would be deadly. But he’s not normal anymore.

(He’s a monster.)

Peter stays in the tree for hours, able to see everyone but not able to be seen. He stopped crying ages ago, numbness settling over him like an icy blanket. He knows May is probably looking for him. And Ned, and the police.

He doesn’t even know where he is, but he doesn’t care. Peter can stay lost, for all he cares.

The only person he wants to find him is dead.

* * *

Without the help of Ben’s income, May is more stretched thin than ever. She’s constantly picking up extra shifts, typically gone before Peter wakes up and not coming back until he’s fast asleep.

Peter feels guiltier than ever.

He tries not to ask for a single extra thing, never sparing money for even a bag of chips. On a rare afternoon when May’s home early, he catches her sitting at the table, bills spread out in front of her, and she’s crying softly.

_This is your fault_ , he reminds himself.

When she leaves later that evening for her night shift, he creeps downstairs and shuffles through the bills. Heat is one of the highest. It makes sense too, because it’s the middle of winter, so they usually keep the heat cranked up.

_Not anymore,_ Peter thinks. He makes his way to the thermostat and turns it off completely, piling an extra comforter and blanket onto his bed. He looks longingly at Ben’s old hoodie that still hangs over his desk chair, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to wear it since – since that night.

It doesn’t take long for the cold to settle into the apartment. He shivers violently, making a cocoon for himself with all the blankets. And when his alarm wakes him up at four in the morning, an hour before he knows May’s supposed to get home, he crawls out of bed and turns the heat back on so that she’s none the wiser.

It’s a small price to pay, he thinks.

Warmth isn’t the only thing Peter gives up. When his lunch account at school reaches zero, he decides not to bring it up. Instead, Peter escapes to the library, ignoring the growling of his stomach and the scent of food that somehow follows him wherever he goes.

Not long after, Ned starts to join him in the library, casually sliding Peter a sandwich. When he opens his mouth to protest, Ned cuts him off with a shrug.

“Mom keeps packing me two. Something about me being a growing boy, but I can’t eat both,” he says indifferently.

They both know it’s a lie, but Peter takes a bite anyway and tries to pretend it’s the truth.

He’s too young to get a job, despite his efforts to find an under the table one, so he starts selling his LEGO sets online, knowing how expensive his sets are. He sells them for as much as people will buy them for, and it’s all worth it when he finally has money in his hands.

Whenever May’s gone or asleep, Peter stuffs a twenty in her emergency jar and slides another into her wallet.

She never suspects a thing. No one does, except for maybe Ned. Peter does his best to act as normal as a grieving teen can act, keeping his grades up and making sure it’s not obvious how stretched they are for money.

Teachers are constantly asking him how he’s holding up, how he and May are doing, and he grimaces, telling them that they’re doing their best.

Mostly he just keeps his head down, doing his best to stay lost in the chaos of the student body.

It’s better this way.

* * *

To say Peter was excited would be an understatement.

He’d been talking to this girl, Allie, for the past couple of weeks, nearly gushing about her to Ned whenever he could, and now she had asked him on a  _date._

Him! Peter Parker, the lamest of the lame, had actually managed to get someone to like him enough to ask him out. It was almost too good to be true.

When the day comes, Peter fidgets nonstop with nerves, and only May’s soothing presence and soft encouragement keeps him from leaping to the ceiling out of restless energy.

“Peter, you look so handsome. You’re going to have so much fun,” May says, looking at him with a fond expression. Peter just smiles weakly.

“You’re sure you don’t need me to give you a ride anywhere?”

Peter shakes his head. “She’s going to drive. I’m not even sure where exactly we’re going. She said it’s a surprise.”

“Oooooh, exciting,” May says with a smile. “Just be sure you text me when you get there, so I know you’re okay and arrived safely, okay?”

Peter nods and then tenses when he hears her car pull up. He tries to look casual so May doesn’t suspect anything – keeping his enhanced senses to himself has been the hardest effect of the bite.

He doesn’t even have to pretend to be surprised when she rings the doorbell. He’s so nervous that his heart leaps into his throat, and he lunges for the door before May can even move. He opens the door to find Allie wearing a light blue sundress, and Peter can’t even believe someone as pretty as her is actually interested in him.

He must be dreaming.

“H-Hey! Hi. Um, hello. You look,” Peter gulps nervously, worried he’s going to say the wrong thing, “lovely. That color suits you.”

Allie smiles at him. “Thank you!”

Peter steps aside so she can step in. May rushes forward to greet the young woman Peter’s talked about non-stop for the past couple of weeks.

“Hi, Allie! It’s good to finally meet you! I’m Peter’s Aunt May,” she introduces.

Allie grins at her and reaches to shake her hand. “It’s so good to meet the woman who practically raised Peter. You did good,” Allie compliments with a wink.

“Don’t I know it,” May says warmly, and Peter could melt from embarrassment.

“Okaaaaay,” he jumps in. “We should go! You know, so May can have a little bit of time to herself.”

May laughs with amusement. “Sure,” she says, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “You kids be safe! And call me if you need anything.”

She gives Peter a quick kiss on the cheek and then ushers them out.

The drive to – wherever they’re going – starts out awkward. Neither of them really knows what to say, and Peter can’t but shift in his seat nervously.

She glances over at him. “Don’t look so nervous! I’m not leading you to your death. We are going out of the city though, so it’s going to be a bit of a drive. Feel free to turn some music on,” she says nicely.

And Peter, just for something to do, leans forward and fiddles with the knob, settling on an old jazz station.

A pang of sadness hits his chest. Ben  _loved_ jazz. He used to play it and then dance with May around their living room. Peter doesn’t change the station, though. He’d like to think it’s Ben cheering him on.

So he settles back, content with idle conversation, and lets the comfort of the music wash over him.

A little while later, when Allie pulls into a wooded area, Peter sits up curiously. She glances over at him and smiles.

“You’re going to love it,” she promises, and Peter does his best to relax.

They pull up to an old warehouse, and she parks the car, cutting the engine off. She gets out, and Peter marvels at how she’s able to walk on pine straw in heels.

She takes his hand and rubs circles into it encouragingly before pulling him behind her, towards the entrance. The hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stand up, his spidey sense pinging dully, but he takes a deep breath, chalking it up to nervousness.

And then he walks in.

Immediately, he hears laughter, and Peter stumbles back in confusion.

“Wha - ?” he asks as Allie pulls away from him and walks backwards, face lit with mirth.

“Oh my god, he actually fell for it!” a familiar voice shouts, and more laughter follows as people start to come out of various hiding spots.

“Allie?” Peter asks, but she just waltzes over to one of the guys who’s just come from around a corner, giving him a big hug and kissing him crudely on the lips. Someone whistles, and another round of laughter ensues.

“Hey, Parker!” the voice from earlier calls. His eyes widen as they land on Flash’s face. “Like the sign we made?”

He points up, and Peter’s heart plummets as his eyes find the banner strung across the ceiling. It reads, ‘PENIS PARKER HATE CLUB.’

Everyone is laughing now, and Peter’s face burns with mortification. He eyes find Allie’s and he looks at her pleadingly. She just rolls her eyes and scoffs, arms still wrapped around the guy.

“Oh, please, Parker,” she drawls. “Did you think I would seriously go out with someone like you?” She smirks down at him. “It was a bet.”

Everyone is chuckling, watching with amusement as the boy tries to process what’s happening.

“W-What? But – but – “

“We were just curious to see how long you’d actually fall for it. Crazy how gullible you are,” Flash laughs. He lifts the cup in his hands. “But, hey, while you’re here you can sit in on our club meeting. I figure you’d fit right in.”

Peter’s eyes are burning now, because god, he is so  _stupid._ How could he have ever thought that an older, prettier girl would actually be interested in him?

It was always too good to be true and he knew it. His heart stutters to a stop and crumbles, and he turns and flees blindly, tears leaking from his eyes as he makes his way back to the main road.

He sits for a second, head in his hands.  _Worthless Peter Parker,_ he thinks, overcome with humiliation and self-loathing.

“Ben,” he sobs, angrily swiping at his face. “Ben,” he repeats, because he can’t seem to get past the name, only knowing that the one person who would know what to do is gone.

_Not the only one,_ a small voice reminds him as he sits helplessly in the middle of god-knows-where.  _May._

Peter fumbles with his phone, still crying harshly, and dials May’s number. She picks up on the third ring, and he does his best to compose himself.

“Peter?” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, Allie had a family emergency, so she had to leave me here. She had this really nice picnic planned in some warehouse, but she literally didn’t even have time to bring me home. I told her you could come get me,” Peter says in a rush, and he’s not quite sure how he managed the lie.

“Oh, Peter. I’m sorry, I know you were really looking forward to it. Just send me your location on your phone and I’ll be there,” May says kindly.

Peter swallows the lump in his throat. “Thanks, May. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she responds, before hanging up the phone.

Peter puts his phone down and cries.

* * *

Darkness.

He’s completely engulfed in it, and it takes Peter a minute to realize what’s happened. And then it hits him:

_A fucking building collapsed on him._

He tries to move, and realizes he can’t so much as budge, panic clawing at his throat as he thinks of the amount of cement resting on his body.

_He could die here._

Peter shifts again, trying to bear the weight with his shoulders, and he cries out in pain, mind swimming in a haze of fear. He desperately calls out for help, over and over, but no one hears him. There’s no one around to hear him, no one who’d even bother looking for him.

He’s on his own.

A wave of hopelessness washes over him, and Peter wonders if maybe this is what’s best. If he just stays here. May would be better off without him. So would Ned and MJ. And Tony wouldn’t have to worry about him screwing up, making him look bad. Tony’s words echo through his head.

_I wanted you to be better._

Maybe this is what he meant, Peter thinks. Peter tries and tries and tries, and he always screws something up, so maybe if he just stops trying altogether, it’d be better for everyone.

He catches his reflection in a puddle, chest heaving with exertion and panic. He sees himself, Peter Parker, and he nearly decides to give up, because Peter Parker is worthless. He’s dorky and stupid and expensive and always messes everything up. Peter Parker is a fucking waste of space.

But then Peter takes in the sight of his mask. And he thinks of Spider-Man. Spider-Man saves people. He can keep saving people. He’s worth something, even if Peter Parker isn’t. Spider-Man can make sure that other people don’t end up like Ben Parker, that other people don’t have to experience the pain he did.

So even if Peter Parker isn’t worth saving, Spider-Man is. It’s with that logic that Peter steels himself with a newfound determination, gathering his strength.

“Come on, Spider-Man.”

* * *

Peter wakes up gasping, heart pounding violently in his chest. There’s something trapping him, and  _oh my god he’s trapped again, he’s trapped,_ and he flails, trying to break free. A harsh sob escapes Peter’s lips and he thrashes around, flinging the covers off of him because they’re  _too heavy._

Fast footsteps meet his ears, and Peter startles as a shadowy figure makes its way towards him. He flinches back, crying out.

“Peter! Kid, it’s okay. It’s me, Tony. You’re at the Compound,” Tony says, reaching over and gently holding the kid’s wrists so he doesn’t hurt himself.

Peter blinks in confusion.

“W-What? But – But the Vulture a-and – “ cuts off with a gasp, heart thudding loudly.

“No, Pete. You defeated him, remember? He’s in jail. You’re with me. You’re okay,” Tony says soothingly, uncharacteristically gentle. “Just focus on breathing, okay?”

Peter starts to calm, trying to put a stop to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His eyes adjust to the darkness and he locks eyes with his mentor, using the man’s grip on him to ground himself.

Tony watches him intently, concern etched into his face as Peter’s breathing goes back to normal. He doesn’t miss the small tremors that run through the boy’s body though.

When Peter calms, Tony carefully lets go up him to allow him to sit up, and Peter looks away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Tony furrows his eyebrows. “Nothing to be sorry for, kid. We all get nightmares.”

Peter just wipes the remnants of frightened tears off his face and curls his knees up to his chest. “Oh.”

Tony stares at him another moment. Even in the dark, he can see the bruises around the kid’s eyes from lack of sleep, and he jolts with the realization that this has probably been a regular nightly occurrence.

And the poor kid is still trembling.

He waits for the kid to gather his bearings and collect himself a little before speaking.

“Want to talk about it?” Tony says casually, not wanting to pressure the kid, who looks like a light wind could startle him.

He watches Peter’s eyes shutter close in real time, closing himself off from him, so Tony tries again, softening his expression.

“It’s just you and me here, kiddo. You don’t have to talk but…” Tony lets out a big breath. “I know from experience that sometimes talking about it helps.”

He’s met with silence, and he watches the internal battle play out in the vigilante’s eyes. Tony’s just about to accept that Peter’s not going to say anything, when suddenly, he opens his mouth and sighs heavily.

“It’s stupid,” Peter says softly.

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid,” Tony counters. Peter shrugs.

“I just,” he pauses, staring at a fixed point just over Tony’s shoulder, eyes glazing over. “Um. I almost died,” he says, and Tony’s blood turns ice cold in his veins.

“What?” Tony says, much more sharply than he intended.

Peter swallows thickly. “The, uh, the Vulture. Before he hijacked your plane, I’d followed him to this old warehouse. And he was talking to me, and I thought I had him trapped, you know? Except I didn’t. He was just stalling. He used his wings to knock down all the pillars and the building – it, uh. It collapsed on me,” he says shakily.

All the blood drains from Tony’s face, because he had no fucking clue. This is all news to him. His jaw tightens, but he stays silent and waits for Peter to continue, sensing that there’s more to the story.

“And I didn’t – I just had my old suit, you know?” Peter says, and ice-cold guilt seizes up in Tony’s chest, because he’s the reason his kid got trapped under a collapsed building with nothing more than a glorified onesie for protection.

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” Tony he says, letting the rare apology fly from his lips, but Peter’s not having it.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Peter says, completely brushing it off. “I understand why you took it away. I just. I don’t know. The worst part about the whole thing wasn’t even the building or not having the suit. It was calling out and no one being around to hear me.” Peter looks absolutely haunted, tears pooling in his eyes. He looks straight at Tony then.

“I was completely alone,” Peter says, voice cracking on the last word.

And Tony can’t help himself. Without another word, he tugs the kid forward, pulling him into his chest, one arm wrapped around him protectively while the other cradles the boys head. Peter breaks, allowing himself to cry softly into his mentor’s neck.

Tony rocks him gently, hand stroking through the kid’s hair soothingly as he whispers nonsensical words of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony whispers again. Peter presses himself closer, outright clinging to him now.

“It’s okay. You’ll never be left alone like that again," Tony swears, holding him close. "I promise."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually think I'm very happy with this, especially the last part, but I just spent hours writing it anyway, so it's getting posted regardless. Also, I'll edit it eventually. College is kicking my ass.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @the-great-escapism!! I'd love to hear from you guys and we can scream about marvel or dogs or how much school sucks or literally anything else!
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos and let me know what you think! What you guys have to say is so important to me.


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